Weakness
by pendragoness
Summary: Don Eppes' weakness is his family. You see?" What happens when an organization targeting Don hurts him by attacking his family?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fic for Numb3rs...Hope you like it!**

The warehouse is dark and windowless and it reeks of smoke and human excrement…shit, in other words. He ducks inside, careful not to allow more than a tiny sliver of fading light in as he ducks through the small door. Even ducking, he nearly smacks his bald head on the doorframe. Once the door is shut, the dark returns and it takes a few seconds for his beady eyes to adjust to the change; he struggles to make out the room through the spots that still remain on his vision. He can see others, hunched in various corners who are also staring intently at him. Cautiously, he meets their eyes. There is a tense moment before one speaks.

"From where do you come brother? What have you seen?"

"I come from the depths of nowhere where I have seen many wonders, friend. Have you also been to the place of which I speak?" he replies confidently.

The tension in the room disappears in an instant; he is in the company of friends. The coded phrases have been spoken correctly and so it is safe for now. He cannot stop himself from smiling in relief. Too often, he has forgotten the passwords he needs to know and has been thrown out of what would otherwise be a safe haven.

"The meetin' stahts in a few minuh's," one the men in the corner tells him, "You's lucky. You almost miss'd ih. We wouldna letcha in afta the boss stah-ted speakin' 'bout the new plans."

He smiles politely, having known this information for three weeks. It had been difficult to find a flight from his latest operation location to L.A., and without a little "persuasion" it woudn't have been possible, but here he is.

The men around him chatter quietly, most of them wondering why they have been summoned again. Maybe someone is expendable and it is finally time for another lynching??? He exchanges small talk with those who greet him, shrugging off the long coat he has been wearing for the past few days to reveal a clean suit beneath it. From the corner of his eye he can see some of the lesser men eyeing him jealously but he does not acknowledge them. One of the advantages of rising through an organization is bigger payoffs. Some of these men are simply squatters who are lucky to still be alive. He smiles at the thought of being able to lynch one of _them_. Pity they don't do that very often, he thinks

A sudden hush falls over the room. Every head turns to see the final man enter. This man is much smaller than the first newcomer, but he carries an air of authority. This is the boss and it is very clear. He wears a hat that casts his face in shadow and his clothes are unremarkable; dark coloured and threadbare. The tall, balding man bows his head slightly to his employer.

"Good to see you could make it, Jay. We will need your skills for our next project," the boss greets him and he is gratified.

The man in charge of this whole branch of the cult has in essence, praised him. He feels a surge of euphoria and hastily deepens his bow. He shows his gratitude in silence.

"Everyone, be seated," the boss says, "We must make this brief. Some of you may have noticed that Corin is missing. The Feds nabbed him last week. He'll try his best not to tell them anything, but he's not going to last forever."

"What's he in for?" someone asks.

"That doesn't matter," the boss replies impatiently, "What matters is that that cuts into whatever time I have to explain our next assignment. This one's straight from the top. It's something we've done before, but this is a special request….A favor for Johnson, our man behind bars. Basically, we've been given a target. We're not to kill him, though, at least not at first. The idea is to harass him, and, in doing so, his employers and coworkers. You'll be briefed further when we require your services. Until then you're all on need-to-know….got it?"

Most of the men in the room smile and nod slowly; harassing is something they are extremely good at.

"Good. Scram…We don't need anyone else dragged in to face the feds. Except for you, Jay, you stay back."

Jay, who is already half way to the door and is wondering why he was called back for something as mundane as this, turns back and faces his boss.

"Yes, sir," he replies, stepping around the rapidly departing men.

He moves quickly across the room, until he stands in front of his employer.

"Please, sit. And address me as Jameson, rather than 'bossman'….it gets irritating. It's also a dead giveaway if anyone busts us."

"Yes, sir. What is it that you require?"

Jameson smiles before he pulls a few folded pieces of paper out of his pocket. He runs a hand through his thinning hair, sighing.

"This is all the information we have on our man. Your first assignment is to find out more about him. We need more information. Here."

Jay takes the papers, carefully unfolding them and glancing at the cover sheet. He smooths the creases on the photo they have been given, memorizing the man's name.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" he asks, flipping to the next sheet and reading the information.

"Yes. I've already been over the information and we need weaknesses to exploit. This guy's resume hasn't given us much to work with so far."

Jay looks up at his employer in confusion.

"But isn't his biggest weakness obvious?" he asks Jameson, "It's right on this paper…Well, he might have more weaknesses, but for most people this is a nasty one…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look….This guy is a Fed. And it looks like he has pretty nasty street rep, a real hard-ass….he sees a therapist, yadda,yadda,yadda…..Here it is: Over the past few years he seems to have become much closer to his brother and father."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Jay rolls his eyes, allowing his exasperation to show.

"A family! He may be a hard-ass Fed, but his brother teaches math at CalSci for God's sake! Perhaps he himself isn't very vulnerable, but the people close to him are. Therefore, the weakness that we know he has is his family. We can effectively attack Don Eppes through hurting his family. You see?"

**A/N: Anyways...any comment, questions, criticisms welcome!**

**pendragoness**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone….This chapter brought to by a guilty conscience and a desire to continue this story. Many thanks for all the kind reviews! **

Previously:

_Jay rolls his eyes, allowing his exasperation to show._

"_A family! He may be a hard-ass Fed, but his brother teaches math at CalSci for God's sake! Perhaps he himself isn't very vulnerable, but the people close to him are. Therefore, the weakness that we know he has is his family. We can effectively attack Don Eppes through hurting his family. You see?"_

Jameson smiles thinly, trying in vain to veil his own irritation.

"An interesting observation…..we'll look into it," he says, reaching for the papers in Jay's hand.

"You damn well better look into it. It's your best shot. And if you don't my time here will be wasted," Jay mutters angrily, giving his employer the information packet.

He hides his belligerent glare, staring at the ground and controlling his show of emotion. He has never truly liked Jameson, although protocol requires that he pretend too, at least in front of lesser members of the organization… although he does enjoy receiving praise the man simply because he is "higher-up", he usually cannot stand his boss. Hopefully, he has not crossed the line yet, although he has certainly toed it.

"I advise you to watch your tone, Jay," the other man says, noticing his companion's fixation with the ground and guessing correctly the dislike that he is hiding.

"Yes, sir," Jay says tightly, lifting his gaze, "I will take your advice. Will you require me to remain here until you have seen this out?"

"Of course. We'll need you to stick around until the end" Jameson replies, a tiny smirk playing across his chapped lips in response to the pained expression that plays across Jay's face.

He knows that the younger man hates him. He has known for years and the feeling is mutual. He knows that staying in LA for this will annoy his inimical associate to no end, and so he makes certain that that is indeed what will be happening. He is so wrapped up in his glee that he fails to notice the murderous expression that flashes across Jay's face before it is hidden behind the mask of humble submission again.

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Corin shifts slightly, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in while he is waiting. The interrogation room is relatively dull and cold. The table beneath his clenched fists is smooth and flat. It is black, reflecting a darkened version of the bland room that surrounds it. From the tabletop, he can see that he looks like hell. His blonde hair is a matted with blood and something sticky that he doesn't want to identify, dark circles and bags surround his eyes, and his normally pale skin is caked with dirt. Suffice to say, he has not seen a shower for quite a while. People have told him that he is quite charismatic, but he knows all the charisma he might possess will not be enough to get him out of this, even if it shows through the dirt. And even if, by some miracle, he manages to escape without a life sentence, he knows that Jameson will have him killed. Perhaps his boss will be kind for once, and he will receive a painless death, but he will be dying soon nonetheless- the organization does not like failure.

The sound of the door opening startles him back to reality, and he automatically sits up straighter, unclenching his fists and lifting his head. Might as well see if a confident criminal unnerves these guys at all….Yeah, right….This is the first time the Feds themselves have come to question him. Sure, he's been dragged in by the LAPD a few times….hasn't everyone? But these guys have never glanced twice in his direction. He wonders if he should demand a lawyer.

Two grim men enter the room, their faces set. The fair haired man speaks first, sitting in the chair opposite Corin but not relaxing at all.

"So….Mr. Wheelrich…."

Corin clears his throat, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. Sweat is already beading on his filthy forehead. The man's gaze is steady and unnerving; he struggles to meet it before looking back at the table. So much for a 'confident criminal'…these people don't fool around.

"I wan' mah lawyer," he spits the words out quickly, so quickly that they are barely distinguishable.

The two agents have no trouble understanding him though and he swears that he sees the dark haired man smirk slightly. But perhaps it is just a trick of the light because within a few seconds the expression is gone, replaced by a completely serious, almost angry expression.

"Do you recognize this man?"

A picture is pushed across the table and he hides his expression as he looks into Officer Patrick Heinemann's dead face. He rests a wayward finger on the man's pale complexion as he feigns confusion.

"Nah…I never seen 'im in my life. Give me a lawyer."

"See, that's the problem here," the dark haired man speaks again and both men move closer to him and he removes his finger from the picture, "You're lying. And you know it. Maybe you didn't kill this man, but you can tell me who did kill him, can't you, Corin?"

He doesn't respond. The fair-haired man pushes another picture across the table and crosses his arms.

"How about this one?"

He gulps again and looks down. Madeline Heinemann's battered face stares up at him, her blue eyes still open in glassy horror. Wishing he was a better liar, he dares to look up into the face of the fair-haired man.

"I dunno what you're after…I dunno either one, and I'm not gonna speak anymore 'til I get a damn lawyer here."

The anger in the face of the dark-haired agent becomes more evident and he leans closer to Corin.

"Do you have any idea about the world of trouble that you are in? The death of a police officer, harassment and then murder of his entire family... You are facing the death penalty. And unless you start talking, you can sit in a nice cell on death row while your friends run free."

Corin stares back at the intimidating man, a rush of loyalty to his comrades inspiring his defiance. He has already failed Jameson and the rest. He will die without giving in, without handing them over, and so he will not die in complete dishonor. This resolved, he uses his newfound confidence to keep his mouth shut until both agents have stalked out of the interrogation room.

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"Here is your room, sir. Enjoy your stay!"

Jay nods to the bellhop as she walks away, sliding his card key into the door of his new hotel room. He opens the door, throwing his bag into a corner and sitting down on the bed with his stack of file folders. They are clearly marked in Jameson's neat handwriting and each contains a full file on the person in question. Interestingly, Jameson has also included folders on Eppes' coworkers who he apparently must value. Jay shuffles through them slowly, reading each name. _Don Eppes, Alan Eppes, Charlie Eppes…_Jay smirks a little but he keeps reading. _David Sinclair, Colby Granger, Megan Reeves, Larry Fleinhardt, Amita Ramanujan…_Jay pauses at this one as well and places the other folders back onto the bed. He flips the folder open and begins to read…Charlie Eppes' romantic interest….he nods and smiles to himself. It's best to start very indirectly, he decides, to build tension very slowly, and Ms. Ramanujan is about to find herself very tragically in the wrong place at the wrong time.

**Review please….I'm not so sure the interrogation scene came out very well so any pointers or corrections on that would be much appreciated. **

**Ir i lû telitha,**

**pendragoness**


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